


Master of Shadows

by Avelyesqe



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Death, F/M, M/M, Minor Violence, Murder, Non-Graphic Violence, Violence, tagging this for various stages of violence because i'm not entirely sure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelyesqe/pseuds/Avelyesqe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eponine is dark, wild, dangerous. She lost herself to the pain and rage a long time ago. She doesn’t even bother looking for herself anymore. That’s why it’s odd (and almost pleasant) when someone starts looking in her place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cloth and Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire remembers the beginning, which he hopes will lead to an end.

Eponine’s dark eyes glow. A soft smile plays on her lips, but anyone should be able to guess that it’s dangerous, not tender. It’s another game she likes to play. The soft smile is just a trick and she wonders how long they’ll believe it. She dares them to guess with the glint in her eye.

 She doesn’t know why no one guesses (“Go on,” she says, “who am I?”). But it doesn’t matter, because once she’s found you, it’s too late. She screams in place of the woman who’s now lying on the ground, a bloody heap of cloth and bones. It’s the nicest thing she can do for them; let them have their one last moment of glory (even if it’s not glorious or theirs (maybe she’s just selfish)). She bends down and dips her fingertips in the blood pooling around the dead woman. In a few quick strokes she’s left her mark, a large and curled E in a circle. That’s the last step to winning; her game is over (for tonight).

 Eponine doesn’t seem to move, but somehow the shadows overtake her; she’s gone as quickly as she came and no one can seem to find her. All that’s left is darkness.

They find the body the next morning. The blood has dried on the pavement (it takes only a few days for it to fade away.). Eponine’s there when a young middle schooler screams and calls 911 (she almost feels bad (she remembers her own childhood)). She’s there when the police arrive and start taping off the crime scene (she might even be in the corners of a few pictures). They notice her, but Eponine’s good at hiding—it’s her favorite game. They see her, but she’s hidden her shadows away.

“Third one this week.” The police talk amongst themselves.  
“Just this week?”  
“Usually doesn’t happen frequently.”  
“Who was she?”  
“It doesn’t matter. There are never any connections.”  
“What about the J? This one’s an E.”  
“Are they spelling something?”  
“J E C? C E J? J C E?”  
“Sh. I’m making the call.”

Eponine likes playing games, but she’s not petty enough to take this big of a risk. She steps into the shadows and disappears.

They show up thirteen minutes later and quickly spread out, covering the crime scene with quick movements and shouted orders. They speak to the police (or rather Enjolras does) and send them on their way (the ‘you wouldn’t be of any help’ isn’t spoken, but implied).

They’re a diverse group, each with a developed skill set to further their efforts. Usually they try to push a message by coordinating rallies and protests designed to enlighten the public, but in light of the recent murders, they’ve decided to temporarily switch directions. They preach nonviolence after all.

Grantaire’s got theories, of course, about who the killers are, why they’re killing, what they want, and the significance of the victims, but it’s hard. He sees some connections (the rich, powerful, and corrupt), but there are outliers (those with no power, money, or a police record). Somehow this one, a (so far) nameless woman with a slit throat, triggers a memory. He’s still as the others examine the crime scene and he searches his mind, opening doors he had once tried so hard to close (with alcohol, but he’s done now, right R?).

“Feuilly, add this one to the map,” Combeferre instructs him as he begins to examine the wound on the victim’s neck.  
“Yup.”  
  
Feuilly slides his phone out of his pocket and quickly adds their coordinates. He zooms out to see the other nine dots and sighs. He’s got the city memorized (from wandering the streets as an orphaned and abandoned child). There’s not an alley or a trash dump he hasn’t found (but every city has its secrets). He doesn’t see a correlation between the points; various alleys and streets, some hidden away while others are usually filled with traffic. Another sigh as he slips his phone back into his pocket.

Bahorel leans on the van, watching as the others run about, looking for clues and trying to track the killer (killers, maybe?) down. For now, he’s unneeded, but he’ll be put into action sooner than he thinks.

Once Combeferre finishes examining the wound he goes to analyze the mark. E again this time. It’s the most frequent out of the three letters they’ve seen. Out of the nine (now ten) murders, the curly E has served as a signature five times, the C three times, and the J twice. He’s convinced there are multiple killers who have allied together for reasons he still doesn’t understand. The handwriting between the three letters is too distinctive to be masked by the elegant curls featured in all three. Combeferre told Grantaire a few weeks back and was relieved to find that he agreed. The theorist provided some insight to why murderers would band together (“They’re still people,” he had said, “they get lonely and angry and all of that. I can’t imagine killing would be a stress free profession, and humans are social beings. I’m just gonna go ahead and clarify that I think these killers are human.” Combeferre laughed. “You wouldn’t be worried that your ally might kill you in your sleep?” “Based on how well they’re doing, I’d say they’re pretty good at what they do. If they turned on each other they’d sooner split ways. If they tried killing each other, they’d probably both end up dead. And anyway, I think they’ve got a goal in mind. Can’t say what it is, not yet, but I figure it’s something they can’t do by themselves.”).

Courfeyrac, having finished photographing the scene, goes to stand next to Grantaire.  
“I can’t imagine finding that on my way home from sixth grade.”  
“You’ve completely dislodged my train of thought,” Grantaire says, exasperated. “I thought I was on to something.”  
“Whoops?” That earns Courfeyrac a prompt smack on the back of the head, but the photographer just smiles.  “Look at this great shot I got of the wound. It’s vicious.” He starts shoving the camera at Grantaire, who is trying his best to avert his eyes and shove the camera away without smashing on the ground.  
“I definitely just ate lunch.”  
“So?”  
“I definitely do _not_ want to see your nasty neck wound.”  
“You’re just jealous.”  
“Oh. Really? Of what? Being a dumb Courfeyrac who gets to play with a fancy camera?”  
“No. Being a dumb Courfeyrac who gets to play with a fancy camera with Enjolras tonight when we look over the photos.”

Grantaire’s gaze shifts to Enjolras, who’s talking Combeferre about who knows what. They look natural and content with their lives, as if they’re not standing three feet away from a rotting corpse.  
“I hate you,” Grantaire mutters as he shoves his friend off-balance. Courfeyrac smirks.  
“You’re just envious of the hot nude shoot I’m going to have with Enjolras tonight.” Courfeyrac winks and saunters off in the direction of their beloved leader. Grantaire considers giving chase, but decides it’s too much effort; Courfeyrac is like the Energizer Bunny—he just. Keeps. Going.

Grantaire glances at the body and thinks back to his younger years. No matter how rough his home life was he knows he wouldn’t have handled finding a dead body on his way home from school well either. As he reminisces to himself, a memory stirs. It’s from a time long ago, probably from his freshman year of college. But he remembers walking down the sidewalk and accidently bumping into a girl (because he wasn’t paying attention (because he and Enjolras just had a _moment_ (he wasn’t thinking about it (he wasn’t obsessing about it (he swears))))), causing her to drop her sketchbook. He remembers it falling open to a page with an insignia scribbled on it. He remembers helping her with the design because she was clearly having trouble considering how may designs she had scribbled out.   He remembers advising her to curl the letter and make it bigger than the circle. He remembers shaking her hand. “Just call me Ep,” she had said with a small nod when he had asked for her name. That was years ago, he thinks, but _shit._ Did he actually help a serial killer with her signature? He takes out his phone and googles her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be Eponine and Eponine/Combeferre-centric, but something happened and I dunno.
> 
> Tags will be updated as they become relevant/I update.  
> c:


	2. One Lost, Two Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Eponine gets back home, she and Cosette are literally at each others' throats and Jehan is a hopeless hopeful romantic.

Eponine unlocks her front door and flops down on the couch. She reaches for the remote and turns the TV on, immediately flipping to the local news station. They’re still covering the murder.  
“Mhmm,” she hums happily to herself. “Maybe they’ll figure it out this time,” she remarks as she watches the figures scurrying around her screen.  
  
She’s heard of them; they all have. They don’t go by any given name, so they call them The Revolutionaries. Their ideals precede them and make Eponine laugh. It’s not that she doesn’t believe it’s all possible, it’s just that she knows it won’t. Jehan and Cosette tend to be more optimistic, as do Joly and Bossuet. Marius pretty much agrees with any that’s uttered from Cosette’s pretty little mouth. Eponine can’t really blame him (Cosette’s too radiant to not be infatuated with ( _You’d never peg her for a killer_ , Eponine muses to herself)), but sometimes she wishes it was different.

Eponine turns the volume down and tries to catch up on the sleep she’s missed recently, when Cosette walks in the front door.

Usually Eponine wouldn’t care, but Cosette slams the door behind her. She’s either mad at something completely out of her control (“State of the world got you down, sweetheart?” Eponine had once teased), Marius, or Eponine herself. Eponine lifts herself off the couch and somehow her tired legs carry her to the kitchen where Cosette is furiously making herself some chocolate milk.  
  
“I can’t believe you,” she pretty blonde mutters under her breath.  
Eponine runs her tongue along the bottom of her teeth. She decides to play innocent. “What?”  
Cosette’s angrily stirring the chocolate syrup with the milk and it’s splashing over the sides. She finishes before she turns on Eponine and glares at the darker haired girl.  
“You’re not supposed to pull this _shit_ anymore, ‘Ponine! We can’t risk it!”  
Eponine scoffs. “They have no idea.”  
“Oh, really?” Cosette leaves her glass on the counter and rushes into her room only to return with her laptop. “Then look at this.” She pulls up The Revolutionaries’ webpage and navigates to Grantire’s (who they’ve penned the ‘theorist) page. His most recent post says he’s looking for a girl who calls herself ‘Ep.’

Eponine scans the page and raises a brow. “I don’t understand why this is a big deal.” She turns to Cosette, but the other girl is still fuming.

“You’ve gotta be more careful!” It’s a screech. Eponine almost thinks Cosette is going to grab her shoulders and try to shake some sense into her, but then again, Eponine knows Cosette better than that and Cosette knows Eponine enough to know that that would be an awful idea.

Cosette sighs. “Listen, you can’t just ignore our code. We have it for a reason.”  
“None of us are ever going to get caught.” Eponine dismisses her friend’s worry with a wave. “There’s no reason why anyone would suspect us. None of us have a criminal record.”  
“We’re all registered to carry concealed weapons.”  
“What murderer would care enough to register their weapons. And anyway,” Eponine continues, swiping Cosette’s chocolate milk and taking a swig. “You and I are female and Jehean is girly enough to be mistaken as female and an easy target. We’re fine, Cosette. No worries.” When she finishes she saunters off into the living room to finish Cosette’s milk and hopefully take a nap. Her hopes are dashed when she hears Cosette following her.

“You can’t keep killing when they’re not assignments,” Cosette instructs her from behind. “Really, Ep. You just can’t.” There’s no lightness in her voice and Eponine tenses at the change.  
“And what are you going to do about it?” She questions, but doesn’t turn around from her place on the couch.

In a second Cosette has her hands wrapped tightly around Eponine’s throat and her mouth is pressed against the brunette’s ear. “Do you _really_ want to know?” she whispers.

Eponine would shiver, but even though Cosette could scare anyone when she gets serious, Eponine’s seen worse. _There’s always worse,_ she thinks, _always worse than what’s going on right now._

 

It’s a little hard to speak with Cosette’s pretty little fingers clenching her throat, but Eponine manages.  
  
“Let go right now.” It’s not a threat, and the menace in Eponine’s voice is almost unnoticeable. But Eponine’s been hardened by time and nothing scares her now. Cosette, on the other hand, isn’t quite used to the darkness Eponine knows so well and the scary steadiness and subtle fury in Eponine’s voice chills Cosette to the bone.

 

The blonde lets go, and launches herself over the back of the couch to take a seat next to Eponine. She leans into her friend’s still tense shoulder and sighs. “Please, ‘Ponine?” Her voice is soft again and she can feel Eponine relax under her.

  
But Eponine doesn’t respond. Instead, she grabs the remote and turns the volume back up.  
  
It’s not that Eponine won’t do it or won’t consider it. She just doesn’t like being told what to do by some soft little girl with an unfortunate past that she used to know ( _But it’s more than that, you know_ , Eponine’s mind whispers in her head. She pushes the thought away).  
  
Her eyes drift around their apartment, finally resting on a clock mounted above their TV. Ten ‘till six. She had about forty minutes before she had to go rescue Gavroche and Azelma from her parents as best as she could.  
  
Eponine knows there’s a part of her that’s probably a little more than mentally unstable. It’s the same part that tells her that killing is fun, and that there’s nothing better than the feel of slicing flesh open with her blade. It’s the part that tells her to kill those who aren’t assignments. It’s the part that loves the thrill and the adrenaline that takes everything else away for a while.  
  
She doesn’t fight it. She tried a long time ago, but she’s done now. She lets it run wild when it wants to and she figures that it doesn’t matter: she has nothing to lose. No family she cares about besides Gavroche and Azelma, but they’re screwed anyway ( _No,_ the rational part of her brain shouts, _you can save them._ ). Marius was never hers to begin with, and if she had a shot with him it’s long passed: her window of opportunity gone when her sanity. Her friends would make it without her. Hell, she even thinks they’d be better off.  
  
“Where were you?” Eponine asks Cosette, who may or may not have drifted off while on her shoulder.  
Cosette stirs; she hadn’t been sleeping. “Went to the grocery store with Jehan, but that cute clerk was hitting on him again so I left him to it.”  
Eponine smirks. She had seen the clerk before and had to admit he was adorable, but there was something deceptive about his easygoing personality.  
  
\----------

Jehan clutches the grocery list in his hands as he walks down the aisles and pushes the cart with his elbows. He keeps furrowing his brow. Damn Cosette and her vanilla soy milk. It’s the last item on the list and he could not for the life of him find it. He consideres asking an employee, but he had already gotten the cute clerk with the floppy brown curls in trouble ( _again_ ) for being on break too long.

He shifts the papers in his hands until the paper with the clerk’s name and number are on top, staring him in the face.  
  
“Courfeyrac,” Jehan whispers to the page.  
  
“Hi, Jehan,” it whispers back.  
  
 _Wait. What?_  
  
Jehan furrows his brow some more before looking up when the shopping car suddenly stops.

 _Oh._  
  
And there, in all his green and white glory, is Courfeyrac with a smile holding a carton of vanilla soy milk.  
  
Jehan smiles as Courfeyrac drops the carton into the cart. “Thanks.”  
  
His heart alights when Courfeyrac smiles back. “No problem. I saw you walk by with your list a couple times. You probably burned quite a few calories.” Courfeyrac chuckles, and Jehan thinks of all the poetry he could write about Courfeyrac’s laugh and how it reminds him of a cloud (light and airy) and a light summer’s breeze and a sunrise on a Sunday and – _dammit_. He wasn’t supposed to get attached to anyone. He thinks back to Eponine’s words.  
  
“You can’t get attached. Not to anyone, or anything, or any place. No attachments. If something goes wrong we might have to leave. You can’t want to bring anything with you. Everything’s gotta stay.”  
  
Jehan had nodded and Eponine continued.  
  
“It’s a dangerous business, Prouvaire, but I think we could change something this way,” the dangerous woman in front of him smirked. “And either way, what’s wrong with being a little radical?”

He’s brought back to the present by Courfeyrac’s hand on his shoulder.

 _When did that get there?_ He thinks, staring at the hand unblinking.  
  
“Let me ring you up,” Courfeyrac chimes cheerfully. “I’m supposed to be working anyway.”  
  
They talk about nothing as Courfeyrac scans all of Jehan’s items. This isn’t the first time it’s happened and Jehan hopes to god it won’t be the last. Images of Courfeyrac fill his head and he’s already had to get a separate notebook to dedicate to the boy.

Jehan watches Courfeyrac’s hands as they swing back and forth between the conveyor belt and the scanner. _Imagine,_ Jehan ponders, _what those hands would look like against my bed sheets, twisting them and wrinkling them and—fuck._ Jehan looks up into Courfeyrac’s eyes, which are focused on trying to find the code for the bananas he had grabbed for Marius. _Eponine’s going to kill me_ _before I even get to date him_ , Jehan whines in his head. He doesn’t doubt the truth in his thought.

But somehow Courfeyrac’s confused expression and parted lips make everything better and all of Jehan’s worries melt away and all that fades into his focus is the brunette trying to ring him up.

“Good customer service is walking you to your car,” Courfeyrac recites, pushing Jehan’s cart to his car. Jehan pops the trunk and the two start loading together.

After loading about half of the groceries, Courfeyrac starts singing. “Just whistle while you work! Dada dada da da da!” Jehan laughs.  
“You can’t whistle?”  
Courfeyrac stops loading and looks at Jehan with a grin on his face. He shakes his head no then presses his lips together, trying to form the correct shape for a whistle.  
  
He eventually gets it and tries blowing air through his parted lips. His attempt is pathetic and it sends Jehan into hysterics, doubling over and leaning on the back of his van.

“Y-You could…do the …sound effects for… a …h-horror movie,” Jehan manages between laughs.  
  
Courfeyrac nudges him lightly, but Jehan’s so unbalanced from laughing that the two tumble into the trunk of Jehan’s car.  
  
Jehan stops laughing and inhales sharply as he becomes highly aware of the cute clerk Courfeyrac, who is on top of him, straddling the poet’s hips, their chests pressed together.  
  
Courfeyrac lingers like that longer than any acquaintance should. He supports himself with one arm while he brushes a lock of hair out of Jehan’s face before leaning in.  
  
Jehan realizes that Courfeyrac’s lips are dangerously close to his lips and he knows what that means and _holy god, is there no mercy_ because he also knows how dangerously close he is to falling head over heels (or maybe it’s too late, it’s hard to tell when all of your oxygen is being sucked in by a Courfeyrac) for this boy and wow, Eponine is going to skin him alive.  
  
But Courfeyrac moves his head to the side and places a gentle peck to Jehan’s cheek instead. Before the larger man gets up, he whispers into Jehan’s ear, “Lunch tomorrow?”  
  
Jehan tries to squeak out a response, but before he can Courfeyrac is lifting himself out of Jehan’s trunk and off of Jehan. The brunette smiles as he offers a hand to the small poet. Jehan gladly accepts it and pulls himself out of his trunk as well.  
  
“You don’t work tomorrow?” the poet questions.  
  
Courfeyrac hesitates before shaking his head. “No, but I do have a meeting with my, uh, activist group thing.”  
  
Jehan raises an eyebrow. “Activist group thing?”  
  
Courfeyrac shrugs. “We’re just a group of friends trying to change the world for the better. No big deal.” He says it so nonchalantly, but his smile betrays how big of a deal it actually is. “It should be over by eleven thirty, so meet me at noon at the pizza parlor on Ridgeway Drive?”  
  
In that moment Jehan would swear Courfeyrac’s smile is contagious. He can practically see it leap off of the man’s face and onto his own. “Yeah,” he nods. “It’s a date.”  
  
Jehan watches as Courfeyrac’s smile widens in response to the word ‘date,’ and the poet would be lying if he said that Courfeyrac’s response didn’t send the good kind of shivers down his spine. In one quick motion, Courfeyrac plants another kiss on Jehan’s cheek, grabs the cart, and is jogging back to the front door of the store, waving as he departs.  
  
“Noon, don’t forget!” He shouts before he stumbles back into the store.  
  
But of course Jehan won’t. Whether he’ll be alive to go, well, that’s up to Eponine.

 _Shit,_ Jehan thinks as he watches Courfeyrac happily bounce back to his register. _I’m so done for._ But something in him doesn’t mind his impending doom as he clutches Courfeyrac’s phone number in his pocket and relishes the promise of a tomorrow in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to study history but then something happened and this came out instead.
> 
> Also I'm trying to write Eponine a little different for purposes of this au, so we'll see how it works out.


	3. You Are My Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine does her best to care for everyone, in her own way.

Jehan tries sneaking in the door, but of course Eponine is waiting for him.  
“Thanks, Cosette,” he mumbles as he walks over to sit next to Eponine on the couch. She does not look happy.  
“Sorry, sweetie,” the blonde replies from the kitchen. “Even if I didn’t tell her, you know she’d find out,” she adds after taking a sip of coffee.

This is very true, and Jehan knows that. But it’s still nice to have someone to blame.  
“You know what I’m going to say,” Eponine starts with a sigh. “I just don’t understand why you keep seeing him.”

Jehan blushes. “Because he makes me hap—“

“I know, Jehan,” Eponine says, exasperated. “But your life isn’t as innocent as you look, and you’ve seen the news. They’re looking for us. You’ve gotta be more careful.”

Luckily, she’s not mad. There’s no dangerous fire in her eyes or sharp tone to her voice; she’s just tired and she just wants Jehan to understand that whatever he has with the ‘cute clerk from aisle three’ won’t work.

When he doesn’t reply, she scoots closer to him and gently caresses his cheek. “It’s just dangerous. Not only for us, but for him too. You’ll get him wrapped up in something a lot bigger than him.” She looks at him until his eyes flick up to meet hers. “Okay?”

He nods with a sigh. “Okay.”

Content with the response, Eponine gets off the couch and starts gathering her stuff, so she doesn’t see the look Jehan shares with Cosette.

“Do you have an assignment tonight?” Cosette asks from the kitchen.

Eponine nods as she slides her knife into the pocket on the inside of her coat. “I have to watch Gavroche and Azelma for a while first. Make sure they’re eating and everything.”

“They haven’t noticed anything?” Jehan asks as he moves to join Cosette and make himself some rose tea.

Eponine smirks. “Of course not.”

“They’re smart kids, ‘Ponine,” Cosette cautions. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable.”

“No one’s getting too comfortable,” Eponine retorts quickly, glaring at her friend for her lack of confidence. She sighs and calms herself once she sees Cosette’s blue eyes harden. “I know they’re smart kids, but I’ve got a lot more experience, all right?”

Jehan would ask how Gavroche and Azelma are any different from Courfeyrac, but he knows better and he just saw Eponine slip her knife into place. “Well, have fun,” he says, trying his best to be cheery and lighten the mood.

Eponine responds only with a slight wave as she slides out the door.

Once the door shuts, Cosette immediately turns to Jehan. “So when are you seeing him again?” she asks with a smile.

“Shh,” Jehan hushes, “she might hear you. Wait a sec.”

Cosette sighs, but knows he could very easily be right. It wouldn’t have been the first time it had happened. She decides to change the subject while they wait. “She doesn’t get like that anymore. Not often, at least.” Even she can hear the sadness in her voice. She idly plays with her coffee mug as she listens to Jehan, who nods in agreement.

“It’s nice,” he adds, “when it happens.”

“I miss it. I remember when she was alive and vibrant.”

“How long ago was that now?” Jehan asked, stirring sugar into his tea.

Cosette shrugs. “I think the last time that was her norm was a couple years before Valjean died.”

“Wow.” He lets his jaw hang at the end of the word. He hadn’t realized it had been so long.

“Yup,” Cosette nods sadly.

The two sit in silence for a minute or two before Cosette tries brightening the heavy atmosphere.

“Marius is coming over later, if that’s all right.”

Jehan smiles. “Of course.” He glances at the clock. “I think we’re good.”

Cosette checks the time as well and nods in agreement. They share a brief moment of silence before Jehan bursts into giggles and spills a little of his tea over the counter.

“He’s so perfect,” Jehan drawls, leaning into Cosette’s shoulder. “I have a lunch date with him tomorrow at noon.” He turns his face up to meet Cosette’s eyes. “Help me get ready?”

“Naturally.”

“Will ‘Ponine be home?” he asks tentatively.

“I’ll get Marius to distract her,” Cosette says with a shrug.

Jehan sighs happily. “I want you to meet him. I think you’d like him.”  
Cosette smiles and runs her hand through Jehan’s bangs. “Describe him to me.”  
“Well,” Jehan starts, “he’s adorable.”

“I’d assume so.”

Jehan playfully shoves her. “If I’m going to describe the like of my life, you’re going to be quiet.”

Cosette shoves him back and laughs. “Using the L-word already?”

He nods. “The first one, yeah.” He blushes and grows serious. “He’s great, Cosette. He really is. He’s charming and lovely and his smile is like my own personal sun. He just brightens everything and brings it all into focus.”

“That’s lovely, Jehan,” Cosette murmurs, stroking Jehan’s cheeks and he blissfully daydreams about his grocery store clerk.

“He makes me forget all of this,” he gestures encompassingly. “He makes me think that, even just for a little while, I’m just Jehan the poet, not Jehan the poet and sometimes assassin with a bounty on my head.” He sighs and looks at the ceiling. “He’s like the first spring bloom after winter. He reminds me that something good will come out of all this…death and stuff.”

They’re interrupted by not only Marius knocking lightly at the door, but also Jehan’s phone singing ‘You Are My Sunshine,’ Bossuet’s personal ringtone. Cosette smiles and the poet and pats him on the head before going to open the door.

With a sigh, Jehan picks up. On the other line, he hears Bossuet and not Courfeyrac, which was expected, but…

“Hello?”

“Hi, can Joly and I pop by? We have some assignments to discuss.”

Jehan could hear Bossuet flipping through folders and papers through the phone. “You know Eponine’s out, right?”

“She said she’d be back in time…” he says hesitantly. “Do you guys wanna wait?”

Cosette shakes her head. “Just tell him to come over. If we don’t take anything, you know Eponine will probably just take the rest anyway.”

Jehan nods, relays the information to Bossuet, and hangs up with promises to see them soon. Jehan closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind of Courfeyrac (but it’s pretty hard when he’s in a room with Marius and Cosette, who love moderately public displays of affection almost as they love each other).

\---  
When she reaches the door of her parents’ house, Eponine doesn’t bother pulling out her keys. Why would she? It’s always unlocked.

She presses the door open and peeks around to see whose home, hoping her parents aren’t. “Gavroche? Azelma?” She calls, but no one responds. The house is eerily quiet, and as Eponine slinks around she knows something is off. After carefully walking upstairs, Eponine sneaks into her old bedroom, one of her siblings’ favorite hiding spots.

She can hear their sniffling from the other side of the door, and the hurried shushes when she opens it.

“Relax, it’s me,” she says quietly, taking a seat on her bed.

After a moment both Gavroche and Azelma poke their heads out from behind the old clothes in Eponine’s closet.

When they don’t speak, Eponine prompts them. “So.”

“The police were here again,” Azelma says quietly. “They took both of them.”

Eponine nods. “Are you guys all right?” she asks with concern as she appraises the two of them. They nod in response.

“When do we get to stay with you, ‘Ponine?” Gavroche asks impatiently. “You’ve been promising—“

“As soon as I have enough money, I told you,” Eponine quips, a little harsher than she had intended. She softens when she sees the stung look on her little brother’s face. “Listen. It’s complicated, okay? It’s not like mother and father dearest make enough money to feed themselves, let alone you guys. And between their lack of well paying employment and all of their fees, we’ve had to wait on getting you guys out of here.” Which was mostly true. Marius had, on more than one occasion, offered to spot Eponine the money to be able to pay for the legal stuff regarding her siblings as well as basic living necessities. And Eponine appreciated it, she did, but she doesn’t need any charity. Her brother and sister are strong enough to wait a while longer until these assignments really start paying off.

“Fine,” Gavroche says with a huff, but Azelma’s stomach growls and Eponine’s reminded why she came here in the first place.

“Let me take you guys out to eat, then we’ll go see how good old mom and dad are doing down at the station.”

“Did you bring enough cash for that?” Azelma asks with a quirked eyebrow. With a roll of her eyes, Eponine playfully bumps into her sister before leading the two downstairs, out the door, and to their favorite café; the Musain.

As they sit at their table and the two younger Thenardiers ravenously eat, Eponine realizes how easy it is to forget how much she cares about them, and how easy it is to fall back into the shadows. But she knows what she needs to do, and once it’s done, it’ll be better for all of them (hopefully at least).

She remembers first meeting Jehan and reuniting with Cosette. Cosette was at her adoptive father’s funeral and Jehan, a total stranger at the time, was comforting her as she stood over Valjean’s grave. Jehan had his arms wrapped around Cosette (who was (and still is) just barely shorter than Jehan) and he softly whispered poetry into her ear.

Eponine recognized her immediately, of course. Who could ever forget Cosette’s radiance once they met her? Despite Eponine’s better judgement, she approached the pair, and from there they all started whatever relationship they had with each other (Jehan and Cosette like calling them all friends. Eponine isn’t so sure that’s what this is).

They used to sit in the Musain and play catch-up. Jehan spoke easily about what he had seen and how it hurt him; his poetic eloquence shining through from the start. He was an only child and rich as anything, sure, but Jehan was friends with everyone, and that everyone happened to include kids from bad parts of town and people who were so desperate they were trying to use him (but they didn’t even need to try and hide it; he would’ve given everything they needed and more). There was a part of him that loved what humanity could create (“Poetry,” he said, “is a beautiful thing. All art is. Even if it’s not quite polished, there’s a spark of light there, don’t you see?”) and that love extended to humanity itself, but he passionately hated the parts of humanity that were corrupt and condemned those who tried so hard to failure. Though he was nonviolent by nature, Jehan wasn’t weak. And Eponine could sense this and she could also figure that with a few sweet words and promises of change she could bring him to murdering the not-so-innocent. Her way of creating change was the only way he’d ever encountered besides his own.

Cosette was more defensive, less willing to open up. But she did eventually, of course. She heard the stories of her mother from Valjean, and it bothered her to no end that there was nothing that could’ve been done. When anyone brought women’s rights up in conversation, Cosette was instantly defensive and listened very intently to the conversation. If something she didn’t agree with or something she knew was wrong came up, she’d speak out against it with more anger and ferocity than people were used to seeing from her.

Neither of them were easy to convince that this way of going about things was right, but Eponine managed. And now there they were. Marius came along because of Cosette and provided the funding for their operations. The weapons, transportation, and housing were pretty much all his doing.

Joly and Bossuet came later. Jehan had met them in the Musain one day and thought they’d be a good fit. Upon meeting them, Eponine knew neither of them would make good killers. Bossuet lacked a certain confidence (which they would later find was due to his unfortunate luck) and Joly’s face always harbored some form of terror as he glanced suspiciously between people, hoping that they didn’t possess anything contagious. Why he was studying to become a doctor, they wouldn’t know.  
But they were helpful nonetheless. Though they couldn’t work in the field with the others, Joly proved to be an integral member of their group the night Cosette broke her leg in a scuffle with an assignment. Bossuet was very good with paperwork, and he was more than willing to help their cause by collecting information on assignments and dealing with the payments. Whether either of them actually approved of the violence (Eponine doubted any of them, including Jehan and Cosette, were completely okay with it), no one could tell.

Eponine is broken out of her reverie when a man with brown hair and a beanie strolls up to their table and starts asking questions.

“Have I seen you before?” He asks curiously, analyzing her face.

She quirks an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“I just- you look familiar. Maybe we went to school together or something. What’s your name?”

“This is our big sister, Dahlia,” Azelma spouts proudly, sounding younger than usual. Gravoche nods enthusiastically in agreement. Both of their eyes are wide and they kick their feet like they have nothing better to do.

Eponine almost breaks out laughing at the sight, but she refrains, as the man is still eyeing her curiously.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course we’re sure!” Gavroche shouts. “She’s our big sissy.”

The man returns his attention to Eponine. “Well, nice to meet you Dahlia. My name is Grantaire.” He extends his hand for her to shake, and Eponine takes it with a light grip.

“Hi, Granatire.”

After a suitably awkward silence, Eponine stands and reaches for her siblings. “Well, if you’ll excuse us,” she starts, her demeanor completely changed. If the kids are acting sweet, she might as well too. Her suspicion from before could easily be passed off as caution, so she steps lightly and acts frail. “We’ll be going now. They need to take their nap if they want to watch a movie when we get back home.”

“Aww, but Dahlia. I’m not tired,” Gavroche whines, stamping his foot.

“But sweetie. You have to, else mommy and daddy will be quite upset with the lot of us. So hurry on now.” She glances at Grantaire. “It was nice meeting you. I apologize for not being able to stay longer but, you know how it is.” She tosses an exhausted and amused glance at Gavroche and Azelma, who are skipping arm in arm out of the café. “Someone has to watch them while our parents are out, and I guess I’m the cheapest babysitter.”

Grantaire nods and smiles sympathetically. “I understand. Sorry to bother you, you just…looked familiar.”

Eponine gives him a kind smile. “It’s fine. It was nice meeting you though. Maybe we’ll see each other again soon.” She waves over her shoulder as she follows the other two out. They all keep up the act until they get back home and are safely inside. They even keep up the act in the police station (though they drop the fake name), and despite their sweet exteriors, they still leave before the officer retrieves their parents (“Just tell them we’ll see them at home,” Eponine says as she ushers the others out. They don’t wait for a reply before closing the door behind them).

“Thanks, guys.”

“You need to pay attention, ‘Ponine,” Azelma starts.

“He was looking at you for a long time, but you didn't notice,” Gavroche finishes.

Eponine only shrugs. “No harm, no foul. Will you guys be all right until the ‘rents get back? I have some work to do.”

The two nod in unison.

“Don’t get into trouble and call me if you need something.”

After a couple hugs, kisses on the cheek, and promises to see each other soon, Eponine is out painting the town red again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying my best to make this make sense but it's like 3:24 in the morning and IT WILL GET REALLY SHIPPY I PROMISE AHAGHISJHFLDJFOOSEF.
> 
> But hi, how are you.  
> Have a nice stay and like I hope you sleep well tonight.
> 
> (Also I added this chapter to the wrong work last night because it was like 3:30 in the morning, so if you read that there, it's the same thing. loloops. That's embarrassing :c )


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